Tess Outland
by Maylynn Carson
Summary: The story of the District One female tribute in the 72nd Hunger Games. Will she come out alive? Note: This is published from my stories I have written for a Hunger Games Facebook roleplay page, so it will be published as deadlines come up. I will compile events in the arena into chapters.


Pop music starts blasting through my surround sound speakers, and I stretch my arms from under my enormous, fluffy, pristine white comforter. I look at my turquoise painted walls covered with posters. I leap out of bed and turn my attention to the biggest poster – the one above my bed. It looks like a calendar, but it isn't. It's a countdown, with the number one on it. I tear the paper off, revealing the last sheet, which reads, "Reaping Day!" I let out a squeal of excitement, dancing off to the bathroom, where I wash my hair and apply minimal makeup – not like I'd really need it. I'm pretty attractive – but I don't flaunt it. It just gives me a nice boost of confidence. I straighten my already blow-dried hair, and slip into a slinky and glittery beige party dress. I put on my pearl earrings and head downstairs. I have a waffle with orange juice made by our personal chef. I love living in one of the privileged districts!

Soon enough, it's time to go to the Justice Courtyard for the reaping! I find my best friend Grace in the crowd, and we go stand in the fifteen year old range, practically bursting with excitement. I do have a lot of tesserae in there for muscle building, so I might actually get reaped, but I really want to volunteer. It makes me seem more valiant. We both wait, anxiously tapping our feet. Soon enough, our escort, Lia Jessup, comes out, tottering on her 5-inch heels. Grace and I snicker at her clumsiness. We know we can both handle 8-inch stilettos without batting an eyelash. Lia finally reaches the bowls, and starts the Dark Days documentary video. "War, terrible war," Grace and I mimic, rolling our eyes at the monotonous voice we've had to listen to every year our entire lives. Finally it finishes, and Lia turns to us. The butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy.

"Okay, everyone! Let's switch this up. Boys first!" All the girls let out an audible moan at having to wait, but there's nothing we can do about it. Lia thrusts her hand into the boy's bowl, and draws out a slip of paper. "Bruce Vaandergaar!" She exclaims. I see a boy 3 years ahead of me looking slightly putout that he wasn't allowed to volunteer, and hope that I don't end up in the same position. A boy his same age starts to volunteer, but before he can get the words out, Bruce whips around and punches him in the face, knocking him out cold and most likely breaking his nose. A scattered few gasp at this display of violence, but not many. This is, after all, District 1. Go hard or go home. But now it is time for the girls.

The anticipation I feel grows even more than I would have thought possible as Lia crosses the stage to the girl's bowl. She sticks her hand in and pulls out a slip of paper. Grace and I grip each other's hands tightly as she calls out the name: "Grace Liberta!" Wait. No. I glance at Grace, who appears stunned. I've always known that she doesn't really want to fight, which is okay. She's so kind and strong, but kindness is her downfall. She could never kill another person. She looks at me, tears welling in her eyes, and I know what I must do. "I volunteer!" I shout, skipping to the stage. But as I do, I look at Bruce, and finally remember why I recognize him. He is known as the most ruthless killer in out District. Some even refer to him as the Chosen One, because he was endowed with so much strength. We all know that he is antisocial, though, and not very stealthy, which I am. I make a mental note to avoid him, and feel a rushing sense of joy as I wave to the cheering crowd.

We are then ushered into the Justice Building to await our visitors. I pace, too excited to sit, and the door opens almost immediately, revealing Grace. She bear hugs me, whispering, "Thank you, thank you…" into my shoulder. I rub her back. "It's okay, Grace! I'm gonna win, and we can hang out in our new house! Can you believe it? It'll be even nicer than my old one!" I come from one of the richest families in District One, and therefore in Panem, not counting the Capitol, obviously. It hard to imagine a nicer house than the one I live in already. Grace detaches herself from me, and holds out a thread anklet. She kneels down and ties it, explaining, "I made this for you yesterday, as your Reaping good luck charm. I guess since I had it, it was my good luck charm – you volunteered to save me. Please wear it as your token?" "Of course," I reply, hugging her once more before she leaves, exclaiming, "See you on the flipside, Tess!"

The door swings open once more, but before I can see whom it is, I can already tell by the cheering. My family has come to congratulate me. "This is great, Tess! One more for our victor family!" shouts my brother, enveloping me in his massive, muscular arms. I hug him back, and then hug my mother and father. They say, "We are so proud of you, Tess, for volunteering for Grace. We saw how grateful her parents were, as well. Good job." They must now leave so I can get on the train, and the exit, saying, "Next time we see you, you'll be a victor! Good luck, honey! We love you!"


End file.
